


Birds of a Feather (Do Therapeutic Roleplay Together)

by notaverse



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Animal Play, Anxious Prompto Argentum, Asexual Noctis Lucis Caelum, Hair Brushing, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Prompto Argentum Needs a Hug, Sharing a Bed, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-15 15:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18502108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaverse/pseuds/notaverse
Summary: Noct is Prompto's emotional support chocobo.





	Birds of a Feather (Do Therapeutic Roleplay Together)

**Author's Note:**

> What began as idle conversations with my beta about Prompto's love of chocobos and how chocoboplay really should be a thing, somehow ended up like this, with some therapeutic petting and grooming, and more veggie consumption than Noct has ever managed in his life, probably.
> 
> Many thanks to [threewalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls) for the usual stellar beta job of making me make this make sense!

Prompto's not the biggest fan of going on hunts. Sure, they need the money, and they've helped make a lot of people safer in the process, but sometimes they have to fight giant bugs, or climb up to really high places to find the creature they're trying to kill, and that's about as far from his idea of fun as you can get.

Tonight, however, he's more than happy to be out in the wilderness, camping at Ausace Haven on their way back from a successful hunt. Tonight, it's not just the four of them around the campfire. Tonight, there are _chocobos_.

"Do we _have_ to take them back tomorrow?" he whines, only half-joking. "Wiz said we could rent them for the whole week if we wanted."

Noctis, who's sprawled out by the fire with his head pillowed on the purple chocobo he's been riding for the past couple of days, is less than keen on the prospect. "Are you kidding? Another few days of riding and you're going to have to personally carry me back to the ranch." He struggles up into a sitting position when Ignis passes him a bowl of mixed vegetables, and frowns down at it in dismay. "Are you sure this is for me and not the chocobos?"

"Quite sure," Ignis says, handing identical bowls to Prompto and Gladio before settling down with one for himself. "Keycatrich salad's just the thing on a hot night like this—light and refreshing."

"It's not a bad idea to get some greens in you every once in a while." On the other side of the fire, Gladio grins and spears a piece of lettuce with his fork, waving it in Noct's direction. "Eat up, Princess."

"Ugh." Noct shoots him a glare, then reluctantly picks up his own fork. "There had better be dessert after this."

"You'll just have to wait and see," Ignis says, confirming nothing either way.

Prompto suspects there is dessert, if only because Ignis is well-used to Noct's veggie-hating ways, and is nice enough to try to soften the shock of salad with a sweet treat. For himself, well... Prompto's had years of eating salads, and while he can't say they'll ever be his favourite, he thinks he's become more-or-less immune by now. He knows this particular recipe came from Cindy, so that helps. His garage goddess has _impeccable_ taste.

He finishes first, though that's due less to his own hunger and more from a need to wolf down his food before his turquoise rental chocobo, hovering behind him, can snap up anything from his dinner.

"Come on, girl," he pleads when she tries to steal a tomato right off the end of his fork. "I already fed you tonight. I need my food, okay? I killed, like, twenty hundlegs today!"

The chocobo, unimpressed by this, makes a play for a slice of cucumber instead. Prompto hastily scarfs down the rest, ignoring the snickers from around the campfire, and receives a mournful "kweh" from his bird when she sees the empty bowl. It might be the saddest sound he's ever heard.

Prompto's heart can't take it. 

"Okay, okay. You win." He retrieves the bag of gysahl greens from their gear and holds out a handful. "Just don't cry. I promise, the greens aren't worth it." They're really not—Ignis's budget hadn't allowed for splashing out on premium greens, so they've just got the regular stuff. 

His chocobo doesn't care about the quality. She happily snaps them up, swooping down on his hand to seize them in her beak. He lets go before she can take his fingers too, and watches her settle back down behind his fold-up chair to work on her snack.

"You're spoiling her," Gladio says, though when Prompto turns around, Gladio's watching his chocobo with amusement, so Prompto figures it's probably not a problem.

"I know, but she sounded so sad! And I have to say goodbye to her tomorrow, so I wanna leave her with something nice to remember me by, you know?"

"Yeah, now she'll always remember you as the guy she can pester for extra food."

"There's no harm in it, this once," Ignis says. "At least someone's enjoying their greens this evening."

He looks pointedly at Noct, who's made, as far as Prompto can tell, very little in the way of progress with his dinner.

Noct shrugs, used to ignoring comments on his eating habits. "Yeah, yeah..."

"I promise you, those are much nicer greens than the chocobos get," Prompto tells him. "Cindy's recipe, prepped by Ignis? You can't get much better than that."

"Shame the only thing chocobo-like about Noct is his hairstyle," Gladio quips. "He's not gonna let you feed him veggies, Prompto."

Gladio's right about one thing: Noct's hair is kind of... feathery. Prompto's own high-school career had been full of cracks about his chocobo styling, but if any of his classmates had thought the same about Noct, they hadn't been brave enough to say it to the prince's face. Black chocobos are a rare breed these days—much like the royal line of Lucis—and Prompto thinks Gladio might be on to something there. A rare, and elegant chocobo, with refined tastes, who carries himself in a manner that betrays his upbringing, no matter how hard he tries to be "one of the guys".

Prompto knows Noct wants his friends to think he's cool, doesn't want to lose face in front of them by not playing along with a joke. That gives him the courage to take a seat next to Noct, pick up his abandoned fork, and spear a chunk of aegir root from the mostly-full bowl. "You sure 'bout that, big guy?"

Gladio folds his arms over his chest. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Silently willing his best friend to play along, Prompto reaches out to hold the aegir root just in front of Noct's mouth, leaving enough of a gap that he'll have to lean forward if he wants to take it. 

Full of surprise, Noct's eyes flick down to the white lump on the end of the fork, and then up to meet Prompto's. For a moment, Prompto thinks Noct's fussy eating habits mean he's just going to leave Prompto hanging, which will no doubt keep Gladio entertained for the rest of the evening, but he should've known better.

After all, Noct's never let him down.

With a quick smirk in Gladio's direction, Noct bobs his head forward and opens up, plucking the aegir root delicately from the end of the fork and drawing it back into his mouth. He crunches down on the vegetable with slow, exaggerated chewing motions, enough to make Prompto laugh, before finishing at normal speed.

Prompto's absolutely delighted. "See?" he says to Gladio. "No chocobo can resist me." As if Noct were a real chocobo. He's not, but Prompto pretends for a second anyway, and gives his feathery head a quick pet. Noct gasps, quick and soft, so Prompto withdraws, thinking that might be a little much, and goes back to the feeding.

He presses his luck with a tomato, this time, and Noct obligingly plays along. 

"If you're going to have to handfeed Noct his vegetables every time then I'm going to have to start allowing longer for meals," Ignis comments.

Every time? Prompto definitely hadn't been thinking that far ahead. Still, Noct's getting through his salad much faster with Prompto feeding him than on his own. They're still going, bite after bite, and he hasn't protested once. There must be payback coming, Prompto's sure of it. 

But when Ignis eventually declares himself satisfied with Noct's salad consumption and produces slices of orange cake for them all, Prompto looks at Noct, face slightly flushed from all the attention, and kind of feels like he's already had his dessert.

**********

They do return to Wiz's Chocobo Post the next morning, but it's a few days yet before Prompto has to give up the chocobos to get back on the road in the Regalia. Wiz keeps finding chocobo-related errands for them to run, and they're collectively too softhearted to leave him in the lurch. Prompto's overjoyed. They sleep in the caravan nearby, and Wiz feeds them in his cafe, and Prompto spends every spare second in the chocobo pens.

He even falls asleep in there one night, a fluffy yellow chocochick nestled in his arms, and wakes early next morning to find someone—probably Ignis—has draped a blanket around his shoulders. He doesn't realise how many chocobo feathers have made their way into his hair until Gladio refuses to let him back into the caravan before he's plucked them all out.

But eventually, Wiz runs out of things for them to do, and Prompto has to say goodbye to his feathered friends. He goes around each of them in turn, cooing at them softly while he gives them a good ruffle and tries to avoid getting his ears nipped—a venture in which he's only partially successful. 

"No," Ignis tells him firmly when he emerges at last with a chocochick cradled against his chest. "We're not picking up any strays."

"But she's tiny! I'll keep her on my lap in the car, you'll never even know she's there!"

"Noct said the same thing about that cat at Galdin Quay," Ignis says. "I'm sorry, Prompto, but we can't afford to take on any pets. What if something were to happen to us? She's better off here, growing up with the other chocobos."

Gladio holds out his hands for the chick so he can put her back in the pen, and Prompto reluctantly surrenders her, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head before he passes her over. "I like it here too, but we can't stay forever."

"Almost wish we could." Prompto will miss the chocobos, each and every one of them, though he thinks what he might miss most is that feeling of safety, no matter how fleeting. They haven't seen any magitek troopers in days and their biggest problem, no pun intended, has been a half-blind behemoth. "Think it's the most relaxed I've been since we left the Crown City."

Ignis sighs wistfully. "The respite has been nice."

Noctis, who's never been a morning person and is draped over the chocobo pen like he needs the fencing to keep him on his feet, doesn't join in the conversation, but Prompto sees him smile at that. He's been watching the round of goodbyes with sleepy but notable interest.

It's evening before Prompto starts to understand why.

They've reached Old Lestallum, home to the original Crow's Nest Diner, and so of course, that's where they're eating dinner. Even Ignis appreciates it, once in a while, and has already made a note of a new recipe. Prompto's not sure what's so special about Kenny's "special" salmon, but it's pretty tasty. Ignis will no doubt put his own spin on it.

The recipe's not the only thing that's new. 

"Haven't seen _that_ before," Gladio says, watching Noct spear the small salad piece by piece and deposit it on the edge of Prompto's plate, leaving himself with the salmon and chips.

He's done it dozens of times before, so no surprise there... but his veggies usually end up on Ignis's plate.

"I suppose that's a step in the right direction?" Ignis sounds doubtful, though.

Prompto shrugs. "Putting them on my plate instead of on yours? I guess that's progress?"

Noct doesn't say anything as he moves the vegetables across—never does, probably hoping no one will notice if he just doesn't draw attention to himself—but he catches Prompto's eye, then looks pointedly first at the plate, then at the fork in Prompto's hand.

And... oh, okay, that's a little weird, when they're sitting here in a diner, not camped out with a bunch of chocobos, but if Noct wants to run with it, make it a thing, Prompto can do that. If he's reading Noct right. He's pretty sure he is. Subtlety isn't exactly Noct's strong point—being quietly obvious is.

"I told you guys." Prompto spears the tiny Lucian tomato with his fork, making sure not to take the one from his own meal. "No chocobo can resist me. Must be feeding time!" He extends the fork to Noct. "Eat up, boy!"

And Noct does. It's only a small side-salad, nothing fancy, but nothing Noct would normally eat by choice, either. For whatever reason, he's chosen to this time, and Prompto can't exactly ask him straight out if he's just doing this to mess with Gladio's head.

Gladio has his own thoughts to offer on the matter. "You know, if you've actually decided you like vegetables, you can just eat them yourself? You don't have to get Prompto to feed you to save face?"

"Hush," Ignis says. "If it gets him to eat a more balanced diet, I don't care if he insists on having each bite individually blessed by the Astrals."

There's approval mixed in with his mild surprise, which makes Prompto feel a little better about the fact that they're sitting there in a diner booth, surrounded by members of the public, and he's _handfeeding the King of Lucis_. With witnesses. No one here knows who they are (he hopes) but still, it's not the kind of thing twenty year-old guys normally do with each other, right?

Like this, it's easier to think of Noct as his chocobo than as his king, even if chocobos aren't normally allowed inside restaurants.

A chocobo who's just eaten all his greens and is waiting, head still turned towards Prompto, for... what?

"Nice going!" Prompto tells him brightly, uncertain how far he can take it. How far Noct _wants_ him to take it. "Such a good bird, eating all your greens like that!"

"Say it a little louder for the people in the back?" Gladio suggests, making shooing motions at a couple of kids from the next booth who've stuck their heads over the divider to take a peek. "Not like we're keeping a low profile or anything."

Prompto flushes, conscious that this wouldn't be the first time he's managed to attract unwanted attention to their party by being too loud, too cheerful. He's been working on it so hard, for so long, that he's not always able to tell when he's overdoing it. That's the kind of carelessness that could get them all caught by the Empire. "Sorry," he mumbles, talking down to his plate in the hope that no one will notice if his voice quavers. "Got carried away."

Safest to focus on his own dinner, try not to get caught up in the moment again. He lets the conversations around him blend into so much background noise. By the time he comes up for air and tunes back in, Noct's plate is clean and he's chatting with Gladio about fishing in the River Wennath, but his leg is pressed against Prompto's, solid and reassuring under the table.

Prompto's not sure whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that the comfort he takes from it is the same as when he has a chocochick cradled against his chest.

**********

They get two rooms at the motel that night. They've had a good run, money-wise, with the hunts they've taken on recently, and there's no need to cram into one. After a while playing cards together with Ignis and Gladio in their room, Prompto and Noctis retire to their own. No one's mentioned Prompto's lapse at dinner. Beyond Gladio's initial admonishment there's been nothing. Perhaps that's it, that now he's been reminded, they trust him to keep better control of himself in the future, to not put them in danger because he's incapable of holding back.

What about next time? He knows there will be a next time. He's not cautious like Ignis; not always on alert for threats like Gladio. He hasn't had the benefit of years of training the way Noct has. He's a commoner, a nobody who was lucky enough to make friends with the prince, who's had all of a few weeks with the Crownsguard—and look where he is now? He's—

"Prompto?"

Noct's voice jars him out of the spiral starting to form from his thoughts, back into the motel room, where he's evidently been frozen in the bathroom doorway, hair still dripping from his shower, while his mind runs away with him. 

"You okay?"

Prompto sidesteps away from the door, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry. Just got distracted."

"Don't let what Gladio said in the diner get to you." Noct, already showered and changed for sleep, pushes himself up from a lazy sprawl on the double bed into a sitting position so he can face Prompto properly. "If the Niffs are gonna find us by asking around town, we'll stand out for bigger reasons than you feeding me a salad."

"Gladio's tattoo? Us all wearing black? Me being blond?"

Noct shrugs. "Any or all of the above, I guess. Whatever comes our way, we'll deal with it. All four of us."

Prompto doesn't know if it's something Noct learned from his dad or if it's the effect of having been enrolled in regular schools all his life, but it's one of the things he prizes most about his best friend: Noct never makes any kind of distinction between them. Doesn't matter that their backgrounds couldn't possibly be more different. Doesn't matter that the rest of them are all masters of bladed weapons and the only weapon Prompto's really any good with is a gun, that if an enemy gets in close his options are limited and sometimes he needs a rescue. They're all in this together, until whatever bitter end they eventually reach.

Sometimes, with them living in each other's pockets and fighting side by side, it's easy enough to remember that. Other times, not so much, and tonight's turning out to be one of those times.

He tries to gloss over it with humour, the best way he knows how. "If the Niffs know how you feel about veggies, you eating salad of your own free will's probably the best disguise we could have!"

"Pretty sure their dossier on me's not going to be _that_ detailed. And me eating salad wasn't exactly..." Noct pauses, and Prompto can practically see the words shuffling themselves around inside his head as he searches for the right phrasing. "It's not that it wasn't 'of my own free will', or anything, but it wasn't for me. Or... no, I guess it sort of was, but mostly for you."

"Huh?" Prompto's used to unscrambling Noct-speak, since anything Noct says before he's sufficiently awake to form full sentences requires some serious decoding skills, but he's not sure what to make of this one. "How is you finally eating healthy food a thing for me?"

"Uh..." Noct smiles awkwardly at him, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. "Not me eating it. You feeding it to me."

Now Prompto's even more confused. "Me feeding you is...?"

"You feeding... a chocobo."

"Oh."

Noct's stopped looking at him—is making a point of looking anywhere but at him, in fact—and Prompto's not sure where this is going but he thinks he'd very much like to find out, because if Noct's saying what Prompto thinks he might be saying...

Prompto really needs to sit down for this. He plants himself on the other side of the double bed—near enough that there's no chance of Ignis and Gladio hearing them from next door; far enough to give Noct some space.

"It makes you happy, right?" Noct's still not looking at him. "I've been watching you with the chocobos all week. Feeding them, petting them, grooming them... you were so relaxed an Imperial dropship could've shown up and you'd have been oblivious."

"Well, it's comforting," Prompto says. "Things are so simple for them, you know? Uncomplicated. They don't need much from me, and what they need, I can give. They're cute, and warm, and you'd think they'd be uncomfortable to snuggle against but actually it's like leaning against a big, cuddly pillow!"

Noct snorts and turns his head, letting Prompto see his embarrassment. "I'm definitely not a big, cuddly pillow."

"You're not, but you're also not a chocobo, Noct."

"I could be? Sort of. _Your_ chocobo, anyway."

There's a warm spot, somewhere in Prompto's chest, and it's growing with every word Noct says, even if he doesn't know what that's going to mean for them. 

"My chocobo. I thought..." Prompto tries to take a deep, calming breath; doesn't quite manage it. His next words come out quicker than he intends. "I thought you were just playing along with me. Messing with Gladio."

"I was"—and Prompto stops breathing altogether until Noct continues—"when we were at the haven. And then I saw how happy you were at the chocobo post."

"It was the most comfortable I've been in a while," Prompto admits. "Being around all those chocobos, going for rides, knowing I'd get back and they'd all be there, happy to see me."

"The break did us all some good." Noct's still flushed but there's a smug undertone in his voice that makes Prompto wonder if perhaps Wiz's litany of requests had been the result of a royal suggestion, intended to keep them there for a few extra days.

"Wish we could've stayed longer," he says. "Seen the black chocobo egg hatch."

"We'll go back when Wiz calls about it," Noct says. "And it's not like we can't rent chocobos. You'll still get to see them. And in the meantime..."

"In the meantime I... what, feed you veggies? You'll be my chocobo substitute? How does that even work?"

"However we want it to, I guess?" Noct shrugs. "Didn't really have a plan beyond seeing if you'd go along with it at dinner tonight, and Gladio killed the mood before we could get to the bit I wanted."

"There... there was a bit you wanted?" Prompto thinks back, replaying the event in his mind to try to find some hint from Noct. He'd fed him, had praised him for eating all his greens...

"When we were camping, you..." Noct lightly touches his hand to his head, and then Prompto gets it.

"Oh! You want me to... pet you?"

"Is that... not okay?"

"No! No, it's fine," Prompto rushes to assure him, relieved to not have overstepped the mark last night. "Just kinda surprised, that's all."

It's not as if they never touch. Arms slung around shoulders, fists bumped in shared triumph, helping hands in battle. Noct had reached out first, helping Prompto up when they were in middle school; it had taken until high school, but Prompto had finally been able to reach out and touch him back, inviting himself into Noct's personal space. He's been there ever since. 

But there's touching, and then there's _touching_ , and for all that they do a fair amount of the former, Prompto can't recall them ever doing the latter. Not when it's not a joke, and Prompto doesn't think Noct's joking anymore. He knows pretty well, by this point, what Noct's not interested in; understands that he'd sooner give up fishing than put the moves on someone, so this can't be a come-on. It's still serious, but what kind of serious, exactly? Prompto can't tell.

"How do you... How do we..." This is so awkward. Prompto has no idea how to go about initiating that kind of slow, deliberate touch, and it doesn't really help matters that they'll be sharing a bed tonight, which will be a million times more awkward if he does something stupid that makes Noct think twice about the whole idea. The two of them sharing a bed is nothing new. The two of them actually touching while they're on that bed, on the other hand, is definitely unknown territory.

"Uh..." At least Noct doesn't seem any less flustered by this than he is, so that helps. "What would you do if we were back at the chocobo post? Like, with me in the pen?"

"Black chocobo in the pen, huh?"

Prompto closes his eyes for a minute, trying to get the scene straight in his mind. They've come back from a hunt, don't have to go anywhere else today and can kick back and relax at the chocobo post until morning. He can take all the time he wants. Time to spend with his favourite chocobo.

Yeah, that's right. There he is, that beautiful black bird, always so sleepy. He seems so aloof and cold, sometimes, but Prompto knows how to treat him properly. There's a warm heart beneath those fine feathers, and when they curl up together, it beats in time with Prompto's own.

"Okay." Prompto opens his eyes, a little steadier now. "Lemme try this." He turns his pillow vertically and props it against the headboard, then shuffles back into it so he's sitting up straight, back to the wall, legs outstretched in front of him. Then he grabs the pillow from Noct's side of the bed, and sets it on his lap. It'll be more comfortable for Noct that way, he figures—and marginally less embarrassing than having his best friend resting on his half-bare thighs. He pats the pillow in invitation. "If you were in the pen, I'd feed you—"

"Already done that," Noct interrupts.

"—and praise you for eating all your greens—"

"That too."

"—and even though _all_ the chocobos want a piece of my time, I'm only there for _you_."

Grinning, Noct smacks him lightly on the shoulder. "Who do these other chocobos think they are? I'm pulling rank."

"They'll give us some space," Prompto says. "Eventually. Then I'll sit against the fence post, and you'll—"

He manages to cut himself off before the words "come over for a snuggle" escape his mouth. It's not quite what he'd been going for, and that's not what they're doing, and if he had said it then things would be super weird, which neither of them want, but what _does_ Noct want, anyway? 

Or... No. Not what. Prompto knows that now. He's cool with the 'what', he thinks. It's the 'why' that he doesn't have an answer for.

At least he doesn't have to finish his sentence. Noct gives the pillow a speculative look, then rolls down onto his side, curling his legs up on the mattress and planting his head on the pillow, facing away from Prompto. The weight's more than a chocochick; less than a full-grown chocobo. Not enough to keep him pinned. Enough to drive home just how close Noct is to him.

Prompto can feel the vibrations from the movement of Noct's jaw when he says: "You realise what'll happen with me lying down like this, right?"

"Would _not_ be the first time a chocobo's fallen asleep in my lap!"

Though Noct sure smells a lot nicer than a chocobo, Prompto has to admit. They've both showered this evening, Noct first, and his hair's already mostly dry from the heat. It's more chocobo-like than usual, sticking out at all angles from being towelled and then left to its own devices, and Prompto doubts anything his fingers can do will make it any worse.

"You want me to pet you, I need you somewhere I can reach," he says. "Is... is the angle okay for you?"

"Should be, for a while. Wake me up if I fall asleep, though."

"You got it."

Prompto's hands hover over Noct's head, unsure enough to be all but shaking. _Chocobo_. Okay. He can do this. Deep breath. 

He brushes tentative fingers over the hair at the nape of Noct's neck, pushing up gently, the way he would with an actual chocobo. Fine black hair, still faintly damp, splays up and out between his fingers into even messier spikes. It's nothing like touching the feathers of an adult bird, not really—more like the soft down of a chocochick, and while Noct's hardly blessed in the height department, he's far too big to be one of those. 

Feathers or not, it feels nice against Prompto's skin. He keeps going, experimenting with a couple of angles to see what works best, trying to avoid catching Noct's ear with his nails. The one time he does, Noct twitches on the pillow and Prompto hesitates, just waiting for him to sit up and call it off because how badly is this going that there are scratches now?

But all Noct says is: "We done already?"

The disappointment in his voice, coupled with the fact that he's very clearly not walking off, does a great job of quashing Prompto's hesitation. "Nope. Just getting started!"

"That's more like it."

Prompto's more cautious after that. He lets himself settle into a slow, steady rhythm, shaping Noct's hair with his fingers, trailing beneath it against the warmth of his scalp below. Still not much like petting an actual chocobo, maybe, but it's soothing nonetheless. He doesn't have to think about anything else—not the Empire hunting them down, not the destruction of their home, not that weird barcode he's still covering up with a wristband even in bed. The only things that matter are right here, Noct curled up on the bed beside him, head on the pillow, with Prompto giving him exactly what he wants. What they both want.

This is new for both of them, and new things can be scary. Prompto's running into new things all the time on this road trip. They're easier to deal with, he finds, with his friends by his side. Here, he has only Noct, and the fear isn't _of_ Noct, at all. It's a little for himself, maybe, that perhaps he's overstepping the boundaries of their friendship, or that Noct's trying to do something nice for him without being into it himself. It's hard to set those worries aside completely.

It's getting easier every second his hands continue their journey through Noct's hair, though.

Noct hums in sleepy approval. "Mmm. 's nice."

"Yeah." Prompto allows himself a satisfied sigh of his own. "This is pretty relaxing."

"Mmm..."

Prompto knows that tone. "Uh uh. No sleeping, buddy. We agreed."

Noct groans, bringing one hand up to rub his eyes. "Why would I agree to something like that?"

"Because you don't want to have to explain to Ignis and Gladio that we have to stay here another few days for your back to recover?"

"Okay, that," Noct concedes, sounding marginally more awake. He rolls off the pillow and stretches experimentally, all the while appearing as pleased as Ignis upon discovering some marvellous new ingredient for his cooking—definitely no worse for wear. It's usually obvious if Noct's back's bothering him, and there's no sign of that tonight. Capable of amazing feats in battle he might be, but he pays for it afterwards, and all of them would prefer not to do anything to aggravate the situation.

Prompto can't see himself, since the only mirror in the room is on the wall behind him, but he figures he probably doesn't look too much different from Noct, something like they've spent the past couple of weeks lazing around on the beach at Galdin Quay without a care in the world. He certainly feels that way—warm and languid enough to melt right into the mattress. It's comforting to him, too, to see Noct so at peace. It's not something that comes easily to him, especially these days, and their recent mini-vacation at the chocobo post is something they can't afford to take the time to do anywhere near as much as they need it. 

They can't go home. They can't sit this one out in blissful ignorance and wait for someone else to take back the Crystal. They can't always take the time they need to rest and recuperate, to get themselves back on track.

But maybe they can have this. Stolen moments of respite, simple and soothing for them both. If Noct wants to do it again, that is.

"You good?" Prompto asks him, trying to keep his optimism afloat. If Noct's expression is anything to go by, he's got nothing to worry about. 

Now flat on the mattress, Noct grins up at him. "Better than good. But now I want my pillow back."

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry."

Prompto sets the pillow down where it belongs; Noct immediately shuffles himself further up the bed so he's lying on it, and closes his eyes. He's clearly ready to get some sleep. They both should; they'll hit the road tomorrow as soon as it's light enough for the daemons to have departed for another night, and who knows when their next night in a real bed will be? He should enjoy it while it lasts.

Except that it's kind of weird, turning off the light and settling in for the night, with Noct on the other side of the bed, after they've... what, exactly? It's not like they were making out or anything. He thinks this might be that same kind of strangeness, though, that they've just touched so intimately, with so much care, albeit in a one-sided way, and now he's not sure what happens next. Is he supposed to feed Noct every time there's a veggie on his plate? Can Prompto just say when he's feeling bad and needs to pet his chocobo to make himself feel better? Do they have to agree things like that in advance? Are there rules? Can they—

"Tell your brain to shut up." Noct's voice surprises Prompto with how close it sounds, even though he knows exactly where Noct is on the bed. "It's gonna keep you awake, and that's gonna keep _me_ awake."

Prompto manages a shaky laugh. "Like anything could keep _you_ awake."

"You never know." There's a rustle of sheets, and then Noct speaks again, a little closer this time, a little softer. "It's okay, Prompto. Go to sleep, all right? We don't have to figure this out right now."

Prompto's not even sure what he's doing to give himself away, especially in the dark, but Noct knows him pretty well by now. He's right, of course. Prompto's brain is being far louder than Prompto would like it to be, and if he lets himself listen, lets himself start spiralling out into 'what ifs', he'll only undo the effects of everything they've just done. Not super helpful.

"Yeah." He calls up the memory of Noct's hair between his fingers, focussing on how soothing it had been, letting it push out his brain's attempts to tie him up in knots. "Yeah, we can figure it out next time. If there's a next time. Can there be a next time?"

"Of course there'll be a next time. Unless you don't want...?"

"No! I want." And Prompto hopes like hell that the walls are thicker than he thinks they are, because that came out louder than he'd intended and he doesn't want to know what Gladio would make of it. "But why do you want?" he continues, a shade above a whisper. "What are you even getting out of this besides messed-up hair and food you don't like?"

Noct sighs and leaves the silence hanging so long Prompto thinks he's fallen asleep—not long enough for anyone else, but this is Noct. "I don't care about the food. But touching my hair is... It's nice, okay? You're not a doctor, or a tailor, or a council member, or anyone else who thinks that just because I'm royalty, my body's public property."

"Nope, I'm just me." A humble commoner, and a foreign one at that.

"Yeah, you're you, and that's why I like it. I don't really..." Noct sighs again, no doubt wishing himself anywhere but here so he doesn't have to talk about this. "I don't have a lot of people in my life who touch me gently. People who care about _me_ , as a person. Only the three of you."

Prompto's not sure he's ever heard Noct express so many actual feelings at once—not about people he likes, at any rate. This is the kind of conversation they'd never have in the daylight, only possible when the lights are out and they can't see each other, so they don't have to deal with where to look, how to react. Like this, Noct can say whatever he wants, and Prompto can't see how difficult it is for him.

He sure can hear it, though.

"If that doesn't... if that doesn't work for you, then we don't have to..." Noct falters, trailing off into silence.

In the daylight, Prompto might reach for a joke, and soften his response with a smile. But Noct won't see it, if he does it now, and so he reaches for the plain and simple truth instead. "It works for me," he murmurs, and hears a soft huff of relief from across the bed.

It does work for him—works for _them_ —and Noct's right, they don't have to figure this all out tonight. Not like either of them are much for plans, anyway. That's Ignis's department. This is just for them, and it makes Prompto feel a little like he's been given a whole stable of chocobos of his very own.

**********

The thing about secrets? They're hard to keep when you and your fellow secret-keeper spend the majority of your waking hours, and many of your sleeping ones, with two other people.

They manage, for a little while, mostly because everything's happening so quickly that there's not even any time for Prompto to fret over it. Gladio's keen to get to Lestallum to see his sister, and when they do make it there, their problems only magnify. Sure, Iris is there, and Prompto's super happy about that, but that's also when the earthquakes start, and with them, stabbing headaches for Noct. They're brief, but sudden, and although Prompto makes the offer, in case Noct would find it soothing, he's gently turned down.

He supposes if a god were trying to communicate with him by forcing images directly into his brain, he probably wouldn't want anyone touching him, either.

Things don't improve with a terrifying trip behind a waterfall, a visit to the Disc of Cauthess to fight Titan (courtesy of the creepy Imperial Chancellor), and the loss—hopefully temporary—of the Regalia. At least they don't have to walk everywhere until they get it back. Prompto can't say he's sorry to have a legitimate excuse to be renting chocobos all the time, and it helps, if only a little, to have them there. He can focus on taking care of the birds and try not to think too much about how many different ways they come close to dying every single day. Daemons in dark, icy caverns? Got it covered. Being crushed to death by an actual god? Sure, who wouldn't want that?

They can't even get a decent rest, with a storm covering all of Duscae. The sound and light show, Ramuh's only-slightly-less-intrusive way of getting Noct's attention, makes life a misery for all of them, and by mutual consent they work to find the three runestones as quickly as possible. First two? Not a problem. The third one is, of course, in one of Prompto's least favourite places to go exploring—a cold, dark cavern filled with both goblins and tight spots. Being Noct's best friend is _so_ not good for his claustrophobia.

He's not keen on snakes, either. Especially giant ones that mistake him for their baby and like to steal him away from his friends.

Terror shared four ways becomes lesser, each of them bolstered by the others. But when he's alone, with only the light from his solitary torch to keep him from freaking out completely, there's nowhere else for his panic to go. The naga's deposited him on the other side of a chasm from his friends, much lower down in the cavern. He can't see them, can't hear them. He doesn't dare risk calling out to them—what if the naga comes back? She's slithered off somewhere, leaving him shivering and nauseated from his unexpected detour.

He could cry from relief when Gladio's voice rings out from the darkness, asking him if he's okay. Of course he's not okay. They've had a lot of bad days since leaving the Crown City; this one's coming pretty close to knocking _that day_ in Galdin Quay off the top spot.

They find him soon after that. Prompto's not even attempting to pretend he's holding it together, not that anyone else is in much better shape. They can't possibly leave Fociaugh Hollow soon enough for his liking, and when they finally kill the naga, and Noct reaches the last runestone and earns Ramuh's favour, he's about ready to collapse onto a nice, soft bed.

Which he doesn't get, because the universe evidently wants him to suffer. At least the storm's finally stopped, though all that means is that they don't get soaked while putting up their tent at a haven. They can't go any farther today—they need food, warmth, and rest. Especially that last one. Even Gladio's looking peaked, after so much time spent running around in the cold and dark.

He gets the fire going first, before setting up anything else, and Prompto sits as close to it as he can possibly get without his clothes catching alight. Around him, Ignis is busy unpacking the tent, as Noct passes him equipment from the Armiger to be set up for the night. 

"Here." Gladio grabs one of the blankets Noct's pulled out and unfolds it around Prompto's shoulders. "This'll help."

"Thanks." Prompto huddles down under the blanket, arms wrapped around his knees, wishing he could stop shivering. They hadn't exactly had thermal blankets on their packing list. 

They let him get away with not helping, just this once. He can't even bring himself to get up and take care of the chocobos. Noct takes on those duties instead; Prompto gives him a wan smile when he sees the bag of gysahl greens in Noct's hands. Ignis, meanwhile, is boiling water for tea, and when he finally hands Prompto a nice, steaming mug, Prompto doesn't even care that it's actually too hot for him to drink yet, it's so comforting to have the heat. 

Noct sits close to him when they eventually eat. It's green soup curry tonight, one of Prompto's favourites and full of warming spices. 

"How you holding up?" Noct asks.

"Been better." Prompto swallows down another mouthful of soup. It burns his insides in the best way, but the heat doesn't seem to reach his chilled skin. "Think I've had enough of caves for a while. Why don't gods and your dead ancestors ever hang out in nice, hospitable places? Like the beach?"

"Leviathan might? Not sure Altissia even has caves."

"Maybe really stylish ones?" Gladio suggests.

"I think not," Ignis says. "We should count ourselves fortunate if we are not required to travel underwater to face the Tidemother."

Prompto gesticulates so wildly he almost upsets his bowl of soup. "No... under... anything! For a while. Please?"

"We'll see what we can do," Noct says, and then he holds out his spoon, handle-first, to Prompto.

Prompto stares at it, bewildered, until he catches a glimpse of Noct's bowl. All the chunks of chopped red pepper have been pushed to one side, very obviously abandoned veggies. 

Coming out of the blue like this, after the day they've just had, it startles him. But if the offer itself is unexpected, the answering flare of anticipation inside him is not, and he meets Noct's grin with a shy smile of his own. He sets his own bowl aside so he can steady Noct's with one hand, taking the spoon with the other, and reaches for the peppers.

"This again?" Gladio just shakes his head at them, bemused. "Did Noct lose a bet or something? C'mon, Prompto, you can tell us."

Ignis knows better. "Preposterous. Noct would never bet on anything where the stakes would involve him eating vegetables."

"'Course I wouldn't," Noct says, but he doesn't offer an explanation, and Prompto's certainly not going to.

It doesn't last as long as the other couple of occasions when they've done this, because there aren't that many peppers, and Prompto can fit more than one chunk on the spoon at a time. They are slippery from the soup, however, so he has to be extra careful not to let them fall off, the intensity of his focus helping him dampen his awareness of Ignis and Gladio's presence. He revels in the reassuring familiarity of all this, giving his tired, dirty chocobo the sustenance he needs at the end of a long day.

When the peppers have all disappeared, he deposits the spoon back in Noct's bowl and picks up his own again.

Noct, head tilted slightly forward, looks disappointed, and Prompto realises he's waiting to be petted. "I don't get a reward for finishing them all?"

Prompto keeps his eyes on Noct so he can ignore the curiosity coming off Gladio and Ignis in waves, but it doesn't keep him from blushing when he says: "Your hair's got, like, dust and stuff in it from the caves. Probably bits of dead daemon."

"Like yours is gonna be any better." Noct smirks and whips out a comb from the Armiger. Show-off. "So how about you fix it for me?"

"Okaaaay." Gladio strings the word out well beyond its usual length. "What am I missing here?"

"Some tact, I think," Ignis says; Gladio laughs at him and shakes his head again.

Prompto hastily gulps down the last of his dinner. He'll pay for this later, he's sure, whenever Gladio next catches him on his own and pumps him for information, but he can't bring himself to care right now. Noct's being incredibly blatant in his attempt to provide a distraction, and Prompto's only too happy to take him up on it. 

He accepts the comb and wonders how to begin. Noct takes the decision out of his hands by dropping down on the ground in front of Prompto's camp chair, nudging his legs apart to make space. From that angle, Prompto can tell the back of Noct's neck is almost as red as the peppers in the soup, and his own is likely headed that way. It's one thing to do this in the privacy of a motel room, with just the two of them. It's another thing altogether to have witnesses.

Still, they're doing this, right? If Noct's up for it, so's he, his fingers itching to recapture those sensations from Old Lestallum even as he tries to shove other memories of that night from his mind. It's not like he can draw unwanted attention to them here. Who's going to notice him grooming his favourite chocobo in the middle of the woods?

He'd only been exaggerating slightly about Noct's hair, though. No dead daemon gore, as far as he can tell, but the dust's true enough, and the occasional bit of greenery from their time outdoors. He can't wait for them to get somewhere with running water so they can all wash off the grime, and he can maybe stop feeling the naga's coils on his skin. That'll have to wait for them to go steal their car back, though.

Wary of knots, he sinks the comb into Noct's hair and drags slowly downwards, keeping him in place with his left hand. The comb slides free, as does a small leaf. That seems to work. He repeats himself, working in a gradual circle around Noct's head, only pausing to nudge a knot into separating with his fingers. Despite the state of the hair, it's a pleasant experience, the repetitive motions working to lull Prompto into a sense of calm. He hopes it feels nice for Noct, too.

"So this is a thing now too?" Gladio doesn't give up, and jokes: "Noct, I know you're lazy, but making Prompto do your hair for you—"

"I'm not _making_ Prompto do anything!" Noct snaps. "I wouldn't."

"It's not like that." Jarred by the abrupt reminder that this isn't exactly business as usual as far as Gladio and Ignis are concerned, Prompto keeps his eyes down on Noct, keeps his voice small, keeps himself tucked into his chair as far as he can. "I want to."

"Gladio, perhaps you could try minding your own business?" Ignis suggests. "I dare say Noct could do with the grooming."

Noct glances across at him and snorts. "Like you're any better."

"A hot shower would not go amiss," Ignis says ruefully. His glasses are scrupulously clean; the rest of him, not so much, though it's evident he's done his best to freshen up before preparing the food. "In fact, I think I'd prefer not to be under canvas tonight—I think all four of us in this condition, and in such close quarters, might be rather... unpleasant. Wouldn't you agree, Gladio?"

Prompto raises his gaze in time to catch the look Gladio shoots Ignis in return, the one that says something like: "Did one of those goblins whack you in the head?", while Ignis, utterly unruffled, only inclines his head towards Prompto and Noct and smiles like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. It's possible they're having an entire silent conversation; they've sure had enough years to practise. 

If it's an argument, Ignis must win, because Gladio goes over to the tent and starts pulling out his own and Ignis's sleeping gear, laying it out on the opposite side of the haven. 

It's late enough that they should be sleeping soon, anyway. This is not a night for staying up and playing _King's Knight_ , not after the kind of day they've had. Was it only one day? Prompto's not even sure. Hard to keep track of time when you're down in the dark, fighting off daemons who know they'll never have to worry about being chased away by the dawn. 

Gladio finishes with the bedding and takes over Noct's abandoned camp chair for a moment so he can talk to them up close. He's dropped the teasing. "You don't wanna talk about it, you don't have to," he says, serious but kind, and honestly, Prompto could hug him for that. "But do me a favour? If we're gonna need separate tents from now on, say something when we're actually somewhere we can buy another one?"

Ignis approaches on their other side. "You two take the tent tonight. And... er... do remember there are predators out there other than daemons who might be attracted by noise?"

"We will," Noct says blithely, and rises to his feet. "C'mon, Prompto." He stops at the entrance to the tent, when he realises Prompto isn't following. "Are you... choking?"

"Nope!" Prompto squeaks out, feeling like his throat's having some kind of delayed reaction to the chillies. Either Noct's got more composure than anyone on Eos—which Prompto knows is blatantly untrue—or he's completely missed what Gladio and Ignis appear to be implying, which is far more likely. They know as well as Prompto does that Noct's not into that, but perhaps they think he's experimenting. Which is sort of true, if in a very different way. "All good here!"

"Riiiiiight..."

Noct disappears into the tent, leaving an extremely flustered Prompto outside with Gladio and Ignis, who are preparing for bed. "Uh..."

"Just try not to damage the tent," Gladio says, and Prompto turns tail and flees.

"You okay?" Noct asks when Prompto joins him in the tent. 

The number of times he's been asked that today... "No, I'm not okay," he hisses, volume as low as he can make it. "Did you miss the part where Gladio and Ignis think we're sleeping together?"

Noct seems puzzled by that. "Aren't we?"

"Not like _that_!"

"They can think what they like—we know what we're doing," Noct says, unfazed. "I could go back out and tell them, if you want?"

Prompto's not sure whether it's better to leave Gladio and Ignis with their current impression, or to enlighten them, but he figures that given how difficult it had been for Noct to even tell _him_ what they were doing, letting him go outside again just means he's going to be sitting in this tent by himself for a few hours, waiting for Noct to get through his explanation. 

"Save it for the morning," he decides. "Maybe it means Gladio's less likely to try to wake us up early for sparring practice?"

"Works for me." Noct hands him his sleeping bag, which has been completely unzipped. "Can you hold yours still while I attach mine?"

"You're zipping them together?"

"It'll be colder in here with only two of us, and you're shivering again."

"Not sure I really stopped."

The fire had helped, as had the food, but the air, though cool after all the rain, isn't the problem. Prompto thinks he'd probably be fine if not for the whole 'snatched by a giant creepy snake lady in the middle of a cold, dark cavern' thing. That kind of chill's much harder to shake off.

Slipping inside the double sleeping bag beside Noct puts them... Well, it puts them about as far apart as they'd be with both bags done up, so the proximity's not so weird, but having Noct so _accessible_ is. The fire will burn for a while yet; the tent's not completely dark, only enough for Prompto not to be able to see Noct's face when he asks: "Is it... okay if I get closer? Might help warm you up."

"Um... sure?"

Prompto will take anything to get warm at this point, and from Noct, he knows that's not a licentious offer. He's still caught off-guard, however, when Noct rolls right into him, pressing himself into Prompto's side and flinging one arm across his chest. That's... a bit more than he'd been expecting. Still, Noct's not a giant creepy snake lady, so that automatically makes him the most comforting thing Prompto's had wrapped around him today.

"That okay?"

"Yeah." Prompto swallows hard, wondering if it's okay to bring his own arm up to touch Noct. Being snuggled together feels more intimate than anything else they've done so far; they don't have a pillow providing a barrier between them this time. The angle's a lot nicer, too. "It's... it's good, actually. Really good."

"Oh yeah?" Noct sounds pleasantly satisfied with himself. "Our rental chocobos are still drying off, so I figured I'd be a better option."

"Least your feathers aren't wet," Prompto cracks, and Noct's laughter reverberates against his ribcage, warming him in ways that have nothing to do with Noct's body heat.

Noct could do with a shower, but so could Prompto, and neither of them smell as bad as wet chocobo, which would be utterly overpowering in such close quarters. He allows himself to relax into it fully, luxuriating in the sensations: the tickle of feathery hair against his face; the solid comfort of the body at his side; the protective arm wrapped around his chest. It's not something he'd thought about before they'd left Insomnia—himself and Noct cuddling like this, a royal black chocobo and his human companion—but it feels good, and he hopes things don't have to get quite so dire before they can do this again. He'd rather not meet up with any more giant snakes.

While the naga's presence in his thoughts is diminishing, thanks to Noct, there's still a whole side of Prompto that she's touched, where Noct can't reach to chase away the insidious chill lingering like a coating of slime on his skin. He needs to be covered more, he thinks. He's been sat on by adult chocobos before, albeit accidentally. They like to flatten their featherless friends. Noct, at least, will let him up again without being bribed with greens.

Prompto reaches for him with the only hand that's free, curling his arm around Noct's back. "Can I move you up a bit? My other side's cold."

"If you want?"

And Prompto does, tugging Noct over so that he covers Prompto almost entirely. It's a struggle, at such an angle and with only the one arm, but he manages, and Noct, after an initial grunt of surprise, helps settle them both into a more comfortable position. They can't line up exactly; Noct's head rests against Prompto's shoulder, at an angle that'll start to hurt before too long. 

"I'm not too heavy?"

"Nah, I'll be all right for a little while. If you are, of course."

"I've had comfier mattresses, but..." Noct shifts on top of him, bringing his legs down on either side of Prompto's to stabilise himself. "Yeah, for a little while. Is it helping?"

Prompto's shivers have stopped, or Noct's stopped them for him, rendering him unable to move even that much. After being wrapped in the naga's coils, part of him thinks such pressure should feel threatening, something to be feared and avoided. The rest of him just wants more. Noct's a comforting weight above him, a big, black chocobo who wants to make his distressed human feel better with some well-intentioned squashing. He won't leave Prompto alone. None of them will—they'd all been desperate to find him, in the cavern, and as bad as today has been, he's got another good memory to file away as a reminder for when he feels like he doesn't belong with them.

This memory, too, will be one to keep close.

"Oh, it's helping," Prompto says, and he's so very, very grateful to have someone in his life who cares enough to do this for him.

He takes slow, calm breaths, as deep as he can make them with Noct lying on his chest, and feels Noct's breaths in turn, hears the soft hiss of air near his ear, the puffs of warmth against his skin. These are all good, safe things. The world outside falls away in the face of such tranquillity and leaves him at peace.

They can't stay that way all night, of course, and they don't, as the awkward position wears on Noct's neck and Prompto's chest, and peace starts to become discomfort. Noct eventually shuffles off him so they can both get some sleep without incurring injury. He doesn't shuffle far, however—remains near enough to lend Prompto his body heat, and all the support that goes along with it. Near enough for Prompto to pet his hair, with soft, sleepy strokes, until he drifts off. 

Prompto follows him into sleep, fingers still nestled in Noct's hair and mind totally at ease. Perhaps what they're sharing is unorthodox, but he's too content to care. Noct's absolutely right: there really is no wrong way to love a chocobo—feathered or otherwise.


End file.
